Cupid's Chokehold
by Das Lieblingsfach
Summary: Based on Bri Chan's WCMI An interpretation of what awaits the characters in the next installment. Will Kida have her revenge on Alice? Will Reginald and Alice's date be a total flop? Are Pirates somehow involved? All is answered within.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So I wanted to clear the air a little before the reading begins in hopes of a better understanding of the story. As stated in the summary, this piece was inspired by the amazing virtual comic, When Curiosity Met Insanity created by the notorious Bri Chan and Rain. I guess one could say it's a bit more than just an piece of inspiration, as I'm basically writing my own version of what I think should happen next in the storyline. I am in no way attempting to own this story or its unique characters. I only desired an opportunity to wonder about in this universe where all things Disney coalesce and interpret for myself how these characters might interact with each other (without the annoying Final Fantasy crew). Also, the pairing of Alice and Reginald "Mad Hatter" Theophilius is particularly intriguing, and unavoidably adorable. _

_I am aware that Bri Chan has based this pairing and subsequent universe on Disneyland, and so refers to it was more of a "Theme Park" fandom than anything else. Unfortunately, however, I have not been given the amazing opportunity to work there like she has, nor have I ever even visited the park. My knowledge of its geography, where characters usually hang-out, who they like to hang out with, is based purely off of YouTube videos I've seen and things that have been said in the WCMI group. Basically, I'm asking you to please ignore any inconsistencies and write them off as a product of ignorance. I did, however, look up restaurants around the park to try and determine where the leading ladies of my piece might have hung out. The Carnation Café seemed suitable, but again, I've never so much as seen the building, so this is a complete shot in the dark. _

_As you will soon find out, this story will deal as much with Reggie/Alice as it will the Reginald "fan club". I found the idea of Reginald possessing some kind of kavorca-esque allure a bit intriguing, and so decided to explore this area a bit further, maybe give a bit of insight into this realm of things. Its also an opportunity to create dialogue between cross-over Disney characters. But if you're an avid reader of the comic, I doubt this will cause much confusion, if any at all. _

_Anyway, enough of this banter. _

_Disclaimer: As I've stated repeatedly, this universe, the concept, and the Reginald Theophilius character are all products of Rain and Bri Chan's imaginations and I am in no way attempting to claim them as my own. _

_There existed in Disneyland, among the many cliques that characters fell into so to better classify themselves, a group of somewhat bitter young ladies that met frequently for the sole purpose of complaining. They were the particular sort of women that blurred the lines between villainess and virtuous heroine, mostly because they were a bit too cynical to be described with the same sort of propriety as an __ideal _princess, but had far too much of a conscience to hang around the villains, even if their level of griping rivaled that of the _bad guys._

This group, comprised of Princess Kida, Esmeralda, Megara, and Helga, often met at the Carnation Café, a locale that they found most convenient for its food and its proximity to individuals they could judge and whisper about. This particular morning, however, Kida, who often dictated the direction of the conversation, decided it would be more fitting to hash out Disneyland's newest "couple".

"Who does that little brat think she is?" Kida wondered aloud bitterly, in between hurried, forceful bites of her chef salad. "…coming in and traipsing about on _our_ territory…the nerve."

Esmeralda rolled her eyes as she sipped her mimosa.

"In all fairness, I doubt she was even aware there was territory to be traipsed on. You know as well as I that ol' Reg hasn't revealed his escapades to Miss Park Avenue." The gypsy mentioned sardonically.

"I don't get it, Kida" Megara mentioned, observing the Atlantean Princess stab her salad greens with unwarranted brutality. "You were never this upset when any of us had our share of him. Why now so territorial?"

"Because she _loves_ him," Helga chimed in mockingly, leaning back in her chair, twirling her pistol around her index finger slyly. "She can't bare to see him in the arms of someone who might just love him as much as she does…"

"Shut your mouth, Helga, or I will shut it for you…" Kida responded venomously, sending the woman across the table a sharp glare.

"Yeah," Esmeralda added. "If she says she doesn't love him, then she doesn't. No matter how annoyingly jealous she might seem."

Kida whipped around, offering her friend beside her a gaze that surpassed the one she gave Helga in maliciousness.

"I _don't _love him." she argued in an attempt to defend herself. "Love is for uppity Princesses and stuffed shirt Princes."

"And, if I'm not mistaken, aren't you _Princess_ Kidakaga-"

"Yes," Kida answered, severing Megara's satirical query. "But I'm obviously not _that _kind of a princess. Otherwise, I would be out breaking daddy's bank shopping with Aurora and Snow White rather than sitting here stuffing my face and getting drunk off mimosas at 11 am with you broads."

"I wouldn't worry about it, babe," Megara assured halfheartedly. "We all know Reg's female formula- love and leave 'em. He'll drop that debutante like a hot potato in a matter of weeks."

Kida seemed somewhat reassured at the thought, placing her fork down and chewing contemplatively. It was almost as if this nearly universal reputation of Reginald's hadn't yet occurred to her. At the same time, however, she would never admit to the others how intimidated she was by Alice's intrusion. Sure, Alice was pretty enough, but there was a certain indefinable quality about her that Kida could only associate with moral purity. Women like Aurora, for example, had that similar air about them, but Kida knew that it was purely artificial; Aurora was no more virtuous than that lush, Maleficient, just significantly more discreet. If Alice was more synthetic, Kida would have cared less. But she had heard no dirt on Alice whatsoever, and so assumed that her record was clean. From her observations, men seemed to find the monogamous, committed side of themselves for women who were truly immaculate, and Alice seemed to fit snugly into such an archetype. If Reginald decided to finally become a one woman man, that would mean no more licentious sneaking about, or the infamous, uninhibited carnal experiences that he would allow the many females that had graced the threshold of his bedroom, seeking a guiltless good time.

Kida wasn't sure if she could handle not having that escape at her disposal whenever she pleased. Spending time with Reginald, mostly in secluded areas, was like the hobby that kept her from doing dangerous things or having dark thoughts. If she lost that distraction, what else would keep her from having to deal with her instability?

"Maybe," Kida added finally, wadding up her napkin and throwing it down beside her plate. "Or maybe we should assist in speeding up said process."

Helga contemplated the potential of the plan quietly from her seemingly resigned position. She had an affinity for cunning plans, both for the initial scheming and for the carrying out. She had to hand it to her white-haired chum- Kida had a gift for the crafty and devious. With a doubt, any of the villains would have been more than grateful to have someone as designing on their side, and Helga only knew this because she formerly associated herself with them. Luckily enough, fate had destined for her a newer, more intelligent and level-headed crew. The group of misfit young heroines who never seemed to find the right niche found it in one another, and so Helga was allowed time with people, like Kida, who were actually talented at what they set out to do.

"Intriguing," she commented, leaning forward and placing her gun in its holster. "Tell me more."

"Don't encourage her," Esmeralda warned with a smirk, resting her chin on the edge of her palm. "Why can't we just leave the poor nymphet alone?"

"What kind of bitter trollops would we be if we didn't rough her up a little?" Helga responded slyly. "After all, as Kida said, she's traipsing on private property without written permission. That's reason enough for me to teach her a lesson or two."

"But perhaps we could achieve a similar effect without resorting to physical violence?" Megara offered, exchanging knowing glances with Esmeralda.

Kida stood from the table, pushing her chair away with the momentum of rising. Planting her hands firmly on the table in an undeniably dominating way, she announced,

"If you all don't mind, I'll be calling the shots from here on out. We all know that my schemes are the most successful and therefore that gives me auth-"

The Atlantean Princess had no interest in finishing her train of thought when she caught sight of Aurora directly across the plaza, pawing at clothes and chatting mindlessly with her typical cohorts, Cinderella and Snow White. The women at the table, who had been watching Kida, noticed her attention had immediately been grasped by an outside force, and so turned their heads in the same direction to see what could have possibly brought on this sudden case of ADD.

"Speak of the devil." Megara scoffed upon seeing the recipients of Kida's attention.

Kida smirked, whispering devilishly, "Watch and learn, girls," before striding away from the table entirely. Her pace was too fast for Esmeralda to grab her wrist before she could get away, and so the rest of the group was forced to watch the scene unfold, for better or for worse.

"How could Aurora possibly figure into this genius plan of sabotage?" The Grecian queried uneasily, glancing nervously at Esmeralda from across the table.

"No telling," Helga answered, gazing fixedly at Kida's approach. "But that's what I love about it."

Meanwhile, Aurora and her accompanying princesses were too caught up in their materialistic reverie to notice the approach of the misfit majesty, which is precisely what had been anticipated. Kida hid behind a circular rack of suits positioned close to the female clique at the boutique, hoping to hear some sort of gossip pertaining to their companion or her new fling.

"So I told Phillip that I'm not settling for anything less than 14 k," Aurora announced to her clan, holding a gown up to her frame and surveying herself in full-length mirror. "If he thinks I'll accept some pawn shop fake for my birthday he's got another thing coming!"

Cinderella and Snow laughed accordingly, though Kida suspected that Cinderella had a better understanding of the cause of the chuckle than Snow White, who often giggled inexplicably at inappropriate times.

"Does this dress make me look fat?" Aurora questioned uncertainly, twisting her face.

Kida rolled her eyes as the other two females quickly assured her it didn't, promising that she looked beautiful in whatever she wore. Kida might have argued that she looked more like a jewel-encrusted bean pole than beautiful, but not every one thought bodacious curves surpassed a peeking ribcage in attractiveness.

"So what about that headline this morning?" Cinderella mentioned deviously, seeking a segway into a more gossip-friendly topic. "It seems our dear friend Alice has been making quite the stir."

Aurora grimaced and sighed, "Ugh, don't even get me started." and promptly hung the controversial gown back on the rack.

"_Oh for the love of god, somebody please get her started…"_ Kida mentally begged, hoping that there was still potential for some sort of revealing diatribe.

"I mean, Reginald? What in the world is she thinking?" The lead princess continued, resuming her search for the ideal clothing.

"I don't know which is worse," Cinderella added consensually. "That bulbous nose or those hideous buck-teeth."

"I don't know," Snow began, twisting a strand of bouncy ebony hair around her index finger. "I think his freckles are kind of cute."

The two other women scowled at Snow disbelievingly, challenging her to once more oppose the consensus.

"Oh, uh, I mean-" she stuttered, soon realizing her mistake. "What a weirdo!"

Aurora rolled her eyes and redirected her attention to the considerably more important issue of what she was going to walk out of the store with.

"Anyway," she exhaled. "Reginald should consider himself lucky. Alice's inescapable niavete has worked in his favor. We, however, know better, don't we girls?"

Cinderella nodded as Snow White toyed mindlessly with the fringes on a nearby frock.

"Even if I had suddenly been struck blind with no prior knowledge of Reginald's goofy face, I'd still never give him the time of day. I've seen the kind of hussies _he's _associated with."

"Exactly," Aurora grinned. "I wouldn't want to contract anything."

Kida tightened her grasp around the fabric of a two-piece suit hanging in front of her, slightly ripping it with the edge of her nails.

_You're one to talk…_

"And did you hear she's seeing him again tonight?" Cinderella divulged in a scandalous whisper.

This captured Aurora's attention, causing her to turn her head towards Cinderella and cock her eyebrow quizzically.

"Really?" she inquired. "And where is our gentleman taking the lady this evening?"

"The movies, or so I heard."

"Good sport." Aurora nodded sarcastically. "An area of darkness and seclusion where he can easily wrap his paws around her. God forbid he should take her out to dinner or-"

Kida had heard all she needed. Not wanting to be suffocated any longer by rosy perfume or the clashing conversations rich with hearsay and prattle, Kida made an attempt at an inconspicuous escape, slipping out of the boutique with every hope of not being noticed by any one of consequence. Fortunately, her efforts were not in vain, as she successfully navigated the exit and the terrain of the plaza with impressively deceptive skill.

Upon her return to the café table, Helga stood and clapped in farcical acknowledgement of Kida's success.

"Catch any dirt, Holmes?" Megara grinned, eyeing her fingernails.

"I did, actually, olive-breath."

"Olive-breath? At least my hair is a natural color for my age, grandma!"

"Shut up, Megara," Helga tossed over her shoulder as she approached Kida. "I want to know where our two love birds are headed this evening so I can pound 'em both-"

Esmeralda forced a loud cough, eyeing the blonde in an indirect reprimand.

"And when I say _pound_ them, I mean that as a metaphor for-"

"For crying out loud, do you all want to know where they're going or not?" Kida interjected, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis, her many rattling bracelets adding to the drama.

The returned stares and longing silence was enough to answer the question.

"The movies, they're going to the movies. There's no place more predictable," Kida explained, massaging her temples.

"Gee, first dancing, then a movie? Dear Reggie didn't even buy me a drink before…well…" Helga trailed off, eyeing her group insinuatingly.

"Nice. We get it." Esmeralda assured her dryly, proceeding to take a long swig of her third mimosa.

"Its not like you really gave him a chance anyway," Megara reminded her. "If my memory hasn't failed me it was you who broke into his house with rope and leather, not the other way around."

Kida ignored the quarreling women to contemplate the possibilities of movie theatre sabotage.

"It must be done carefully…" she muttered, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "We'll need more people…significantly more…"

Though plagued by a background soundtrack of Megara and Helga's bickering, accompanied with Esmeralda's attempt at intervention, Kida managed to craft a wicked scheme almost instantly.

"Helga," she began, spinning around to face the café table. "What kind of terms are you on with the villains?"

"Villains?" she repeated skeptically.

"Yes. Well, more specifically, Captain Hook and the pirates."

Esmeralda and Megara once again shared expressions of distress, fearful of what Kida could have in mind that would involve the nautical bandits.

"Uh, Kida," Esmeralda spoke before Helga could answer. "I'm sure there's no need to involve any of _those_ people. Why don't we just-"

"Yeah, the Captain and I still talk," Helga cut in. "I'm sure an arrangement could be in order. What did you have in mind?"

Megara, feeling somewhat ill, motioned for the check to a waiter in proximity, before helping herself to the rest of Esmeralda's mimosa.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: First of all, I just want to say how excited I am to have gotten the amount of reviews I did. I honestly didn't expect many people to acknowledge the story, given that WCMI(as amazing as it is) is still somewhat underground and it doesn't seem like there's much traffic in and out of the Alice and Wonderland fanfic category as it is. So, thanks to those wonderful three people! I look forward to hearing more. =)_

_Secondly, I am having such a dangerously good time writing this, I can't even express it. Ideas are coming to me faster than I can write them, so look for the next chapter soon. _

_There is just something so cool about combining the characters of my childhood under the same "roof" and being able to craft their interactions with one another. Its also refreshing to put a different, more realistic spin on the familiar characters, making them a bit more relatable. _

_Plus, I love working with the Reginald character. I was initially worried about writing his dialogue, as I haven't had nearly the same amount of exposure to his character as Bri and Rain(given that I don't-as previously mentioned-work at Disneyland). But I've managed to impress myself with the delivery and I hope it has the same effect on you. _

_Anyway, enjoy the chapter! Don't forget to review!_

_---------------------------------------------------------------------- _

"So as I was saying, Sylvie and Bruno definitely challenges what we understand to be reality, and that which we believe is only perceptions…_" _

_Don't yawn. Don't yawn. You promised her you wouldn't yawn…_

"It should also be pointed out that the novel is a social commentary on the values of the age…"

_Okay, the urge to yawn has passed. Good. Now, what should I make for dinner tonight? _

"But is that commentary limited to only volume one when the characters are in Victorian London, or does it continue to the second part, which most qualify as nonsense?"

_Oh, that's right, I'm not making dinner tonight. I'm going out with…him…_

"Alice, what do you think?"

At the sound of her voice, the blue-eyed blonde immediately emerged from her daze, her head springing from the support on her fist. Belle was eyeing her expectantly, along with the other members of the monthly book club. The circle of eyes consisted not only of Belle's, but of the nerdy, gangly young man named Milo Thatch who often haunted the library in his abundant free time and Wendy Darling, a close friend of both she and Belle's. This didn't make for a copious group in the least, but the sudden attention was enough to make Alice feel uncomfortably in the "spotlight".

"You haven't said much," Wendy added, concern growing on her face. "Aren't you feeling well?"

Alice nodded violently, preparing to assure them all she was perfectly fine as long as boredom wasn't terminal, when Milo cut in.

"You know, I just got over this awful case of the flu. Terrible. I was vomiting _everywhere._"

He emphasized his point by using sweeping arm movements, which gave a more visual interpretation of how much cubic area the vomit encompassed.

Wendy nodded, while Belle and Alice observed the sole male with expressions that fell somewhere between surprise and disgust.

"Yes, yes, there's definitely something going around," Wendy agreed. "Peter was feeling particularly under the weather himself. Except he seemed to be having more trouble in the restroom than-"

"Okay, okay," Belle interjected with false whimsy, determined to cease the story of Peter and his restroom troubles before things elevated beyond the realm of _too much information._ "So I think we've established that there isn't anything wrong with Alice. I'd really like to continue our analysis, if its alright with everyone else."

The topic of conversation was altered to the former issue, and Alice found herself falling back into the familiar cushion of apathy. It wasn't that she didn't love reading. She _adored_ reading. It was no accident that she worked at a library, after all. But for some reason that she could not entirely fathom, she had no desire to debate novels with others. It was fine enough to talk about an interesting novel factually, that is, without asserting any personal opinions or biases. But Alice supposed it had to do with the fact that she liked her own interpretation of what she read and had little interest in how others saw it. She had no desire to sway others to her side-the only reason she could find for someone to argue in the first place- and liked to keep her opinions as little secrets all to herself. She only found mutual interpretations boring, and so there was no pleasing her in this aspect. Reading was a special activity that she could only share with herself, and so it had been a personal practice for most of her life.

However, when Belle had the idea to start a Book Club at the library, Alice knew she wouldn't have been a good friend and business partner to oppose it. It also became apparent that Belle desired for her to participate, and she supposed refusing _that_ wouldn't have been any more ethical. And so she attended every meeting, reluctantly.

"Alright, well, I think we've covered a lot of ground today," Belle said finally, signaling the end of the discussion.

_Thank god._

"I really would have liked to go more in depth about the moral undertones of volume two," Milo mentioned as he made his way to the door, clumsily adjusting his armful of objects that he had apparently seen as necessary for the meeting.

"Ah, well, we know how dangerous a conflict of ethics can be, don't we Mr. Thatch?" Belle chuckled somewhat artificially as she ushered him out the door.

A small wave and a sugary-sweet "Bye!" was delivered to the two departing guests before Belle hastily shut the door. She turned back to her coworker, her expression unexpectedly relieved.

"Wow, what an intense discussion, huh?" she commented breathlessly, wiping a strand of hair out of her face. "I never seen them so adamant about their opinions! I thought things were going to start getting violent…"

Alice rolled her eyes as Belle chuckled about her over-exaggeration.

"You didn't say much though," Belle mentioned as she began stacking stray books in uneven towers. "Although, what else is new?"

"Belle, to be perfectly honest…"Alice began with a sigh, hoping for an opening to come clean about her relationship with the book club.

"I know," Belle interrupted, not ceasing her book-stacking activities. "You're distracted…"

Alice could tell by the devious tone of Belle's voice that she was talking about her conundrum with Reginald. Or, as most would characterize it judging by that morning's paper, her "blossoming romance". The blonde didn't think she could have gotten any more annoyed at that moment, but had forgotten about her current predicament, the mention of which might have made her punch a hole in the wall.

"I'd rather we not talk about that…" Alice said uneasily, rising from her chair in hopes of escaping the awkward talk.

"And why not?" Belle countered. "Why so bashful?"

"Because…" Alice began loudly, attempting to restrain her bubbling feelings of contempt. "I feel like I've been violently thrown into an extremely odd and embarrassing situation. I never _wanted_ to go to the dance with him. The man just crawled into my house one

night-"

"Wait, what?" The other woman queried suddenly, dropping an armful of books with a thud.

"No, no, no," Alice quickly corrected, instantly perceiving the negative implications. "He came to serenade me, you see, and then he climbed the damn tree so to talk to me better and nearly broke his neck…"

Alice could see that her explanation was having little effect in swaying Belle's opinion of things, as the brunette was eyeing her mischievously, her eyebrow cocked and a smirk painted across her face, all while her arms were folded across her chest.

"Oh, for the love of Walt, don't look at me like that," she huffed, before spinning on her heel and setting off for a far corner of the library.

"If you don't like him so much then why did you agree to see him again tonight?" Belle challenged, yelling after her.

Alice swiveled her upper torso around enough to see the other female and give her a thoroughly dirty look.

"You threw a book at my head!"

_---------------------------------------------------------_

Unlike most of her fellow females about the land, Kida did not care for pirates. While most of the members of her sex seemed to find some inexplicable allure to the sea-faring heathens, particularly those from the Caribbean, she saw them as brackish, unhygienic, unappealing drunkards with Walt-knows-how-many communicable diseases. They also were particularly skilled in the most anti-gentlemanly ways of attracting a woman's attention. This was often done with cat-calls, hands in inappropriate places, or sometimes even, throwing things. Needless to say, these qualities were not what Kida sought for in a partner, romantic or otherwise, and so she kept far away from the docks on Tom Sawyer island.

Today, however, was different. She knew that the only sort of people who could achieve the full potential of her scheme against Alice were pirates, and so she was forced to accompany Helga to the port and discuss matters with her dear friend, Captain James Hook.

Helga, with her tall, icy, intimidating demeanor had no problem navigating the place without being disturbed. She had already developed a reputation here after all, and undoubtedly had made examples of a few unfortunate scallywags who had dared to use a pick-up line on her. Kida, however, found that after only thirty minutes of wandering behind her friend, she had already pulled out her dagger more than five times to threaten heckling perverts. So on her guard was she, that she didn't notice a particular rum-soaked rapscallion hanging from a network of ropes above her head.

"Well, well, good day to thee, love," a raspy, gutteral voice crooned from the space above her.

Before she could crane her neck upwards to see the source of the greeting, the familiar figure dropped in front of her, eyeing her wantonly with his raccoon-rimmed gaze. He took a generous swig from his dirtied rum bottle before swaggering towards her, swaying dangerously towards falling over entirely.

"Silver hair, eh? I like 'em older, meself. Got a few new tricks to teach me, dear? I'm sure you've been around the block a time or two…"

He extended an arm around her shoulders as he spoke, grinning stupidly and revealing a series of gold-capped teeth.

"So whadda yeh say then, eh? Yay or nay?"

Kida sent him a piercing gaze that would have struck him stone-cold dead, if looks could kill. As she peeled his fingers from around her she growled,

"Get out of my face, Long John."

A loud, deep bellow of discontent was heard a few paces away at the bar, the origin, Kida supposed, of the Caribbean pirate. After a few rhythmic thuds, clunks, and metallic gyrations, a large cyborg appeared at the entrance donned in a port bar-tender's clothes.

"Arrgh! I be Captain Long John Silver, not this scurvy brat!" he corrected fiercely, pointing directly at the fellow pirate.

"A bit sensitive about that, he is," The pirate of contested identity beside Kida whispered. "It's a common mistake, no need to fret, love."

"I wasn't," she assured him glacially through gritted teeth.

Interrupting this back and forth banter was the sudden descent of Captain Hook from his vessel, an occasion that required every being within a mile's radius of the ship to cease what they were doing and gaze in awe, lest they be fed to a crocodile or gutted with the infamous hook.

"Mr. Sparrow," Hook spoke pleasantly from his elevated position. "I believe this is the third time this week I've had to remind you to stay in your designated area."

Kida could hear the pirate swallow uneasily before replying, "Its _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, actually…"

"Hardly," Hook scoffed as Smee arrived beside him to change out his hooks. "We'll discuss such a status when you've managed to commandeer yourself a ship."

Jack peered around a bit shamefully, realizing that he had been gotten-the-best-of in front of his colleagues and the woman he was attempting to woo.

"Well, you see, dear sir, I have-"

"Yes, thank you, Sparrow, that will be all," The captain brushed off, inspecting his replacement hook with an enviable amount of attention.

"Eh, like I said, sir, it's _Captain-"_

"I said, that will be all!"

A few snickers and chuckles were heard around the port, particularly from Long John Silver, the cyborg bartender, as Sparrow reluctantly turned around and drunkenly made his way back to which ever area was his own. Kida didn't feel too sympathetic for him, even in this particular moment of humiliation. He would still be reeling in the "tail", as it were, while Captain Hook would be spending another night alone. This, she guessed, was the source of Hook's disapproval with his counterpart.

"Well, well, if it isn't Fraulein Sinclair," Hook observed, removing the blanket of silent tension and releasing everyone to resume their pirately duties. "Has her honor finally found a hiatus in her ever busy schedule to see her dear friend Hook?"

"I didn't come here to talk pleasantries, Captain," she stated firmly. "I came here to talk business."

Hook motioned for Smee to depart, presumably to prepare his state room where said business would take place.

"And why would I want to do that?" he challenged, leaning against his rapier. "Not even so much as a call to any of us in months and now you request my assistance?"

"I thought you said you still talked to him," Kida muttered, to which Helga ignored.

"You'd be mistaken to think my departure from the Villains was anything personal, Captain," she responded respectfully. "Now please invite my friend and I onboard so that we can talk about this more in depth in your stateroom- which, by the way, I know Mr. Smee is preparing for us even as we speak."

Though at first seeming a bit indignant towards Helga's cheeky perception, the pirate nodded and yelled for his crew to descend the gang plank. Helga shot Kida a look that was riddled with _I told you so_, before ascending up to the ship.

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"She…WHAT?"

"You heard me, my fine lucky-footed friend. _I,_ Reginald Theophilus The Third, have tamed the shrew,"

The baffled March Hare was finding Reginald's claim that he had won a _second_ date with Miss Lidell more than a bit far-fetched. Nevertheless, that didn't prevent his anxious surprise at the Hatter's ridiculous news. Even though he knew, as a perfectly perceptive rabbit, that Alice had far too much dignity to accept such an offer, there was the slight, one-in-a-million chance that Reginald's story was not entirely caused by mercury poisoning.

"Well, old boy, I don't mean to cool your chamomile, as it were, but are you entirely sure you heard the young lady correctly?" the hare questioned skeptically, eyeing his friend uncertainly.

"Of course I do!" Reginald answered incredulously. "I listen to every word she says! _Especially, _when she's talking about _**me.**_"

His emphasis on the last word of his sentence made the Hare roll his eyes emphatically.

"And just _how_ much does she say about you?" he challenged, sipping from his china in an extremely unimpressed fashion.

"Well, not a whole lot," the white-haired young man admitted hastily. "But that will soon change! You'll see…"

"Oh will I?" the March Hare retorted, just before Reginald caught sight of a rather spectacular shard of aluminum foil, that the Hare could only have guessed fallen from his tray of muffins that he had lined with the aforementioned substance just a moment ago.

The Hatter dropped to his knees and cradled the glittering material in his palm, all the while emitting some sort of strange, otherworldly moan.

"So," The Hare spoke with a grin. "Where will you be taking her tonight, old chum?"

Reginald, however, was too caught up in the beauty of his treasure to notice the subtle hints of sarcasm in his friend's tone.

"Quiet, lecherous Lepus!" he demanded, briskly. "Can you not see that I have discovered a genuine nugget of purest silver?"

It was all the Hare could do to keep from wrenching the man's head off and sparing his female friend such pain as he endured currently.

"Do you think I should make Alice some jewelry?" Reginald queried with an abundance of enthusiasm.

"Well," The Hare breathed loudly, attempting to maintain his own sanity for both their sakes. "Perhaps you should decide where you're taking her first."

Reginald pocketed the glimmering aluminum that was now in a fist-size, spherical shape, and chuckled whole-heartedly as he stood from his kneel.

"Certainly you didn't think I hadn't yet planned somewhere for us to go!"

The Hare crossed his arms over his chest, cocking a furry eyebrow.

"Yes, actually. You don't usually get that far, anyway, before, inexplicably, they demand…that…"

"I be handcuffed and restrained to the bed with ropes and bits of leather?" Reginald offered, failing to understand his friend's horror at the creation of this mental image.

The rabbit simply shook his head, as if in attempt to clear his mind of the current description, before muttering simply, "Good god…"

"Well, no matter," Reginald continued confidently, adjusting his bowtie. "Miss Lidell has agreed to accompany me to the cinema this evening, for what I hope to be a simply delightful night of cinematics and subsequent discussion."

The March Hare suddenly sprung to his feet on the surface of the tea-party table, crushing a teacup in his carelessness. He rose to the tips of his toes, coming in very close proximity to the Hatter's face. His normally cheery, upbeat eyes were narrowed and burning with an indescribable fire, and his small paws were clenched in stone-hard fists. The abrupt movement, along with the intimidating demeanor, caught the Hatter completely off guard, causing him to fall backwards on to the small of his back.

"Subsequent discussion?" The March Hare repeated, becoming the first bunny to ever elicit any sound reminiscent of a growl.

"You know," Reginald began uneasily. "Underlying themes, character motives, flick flubs…"

"I know what you mean by _subsequent discussion_," he insisted. "And let me warn you now, Reginald Theophilus the Third. I will _not_ have you disgracing my friend for your own twisted pleasure. All of the others were one thing, but Alice Lidell is a genteel lady, and I will see you fully castrated before I allow her reputation tarnished on account of your immaturity!"

The Hatter's eyes immediately faded from frightened to hurt, as they often did whenever the Hare became too passionate and outspoken about the qualities that annoyed him. The Hare, on the other hand, always knew by the expression in his friend's eyes when he had taken his point too far. The Rabbit was fully aware that Reginald, deep down, was capable of emotional maturity and still cared deeply for the ruffian no matter what disgraces he was guilty of. Nevertheless, he couldn't find himself able to trust one friend's heart in the hands of another, particularly when the recipient of the organ had become a notorious heart-breaker.

"Oh…I am sorry, chum," The Hare sighed shamefully, his once rigid body drooping into a lifeless sag. "But you have to understand _my_ perspective of things. I just…don't want to see Alice hurt."

Reginald nodded, understandingly. He gathered his discarded hat as he rose from the unfortunate position, and began dusting himself off.

"I'm not a psychopath, you know," he mumbled bitterly in between dustings. " I'm not out to emotionally torture as many women as possible."

"What is your intention, then?" The Hare questioned eagerly. "I know for most of them it had to be some physical trait, like hair, or eyes, or a willingness to go to bed with you. But what in the world is in Alice that makes you want to pursue her, even after you've defeated the challenge of having her warm up to you? Surely, this is far too much work for another carnal escapade…"

Reginald raised his index finger with, seemingly, every bit of confidence in the world for his answer to the question. He puffed up his chest and took in a generous amount of air, prepping for what could have been the greatest, most eloquent line in history, when unexpectedly, the assurance was taken from him as quickly as lightning strikes. He stood there for a moment, frozen in place with eyes empty from shock, staring at nothing in particular in the distance. Eventually, his body relaxed and naturally fell out of its heroic stance.

The Rabbit could only stare at him in anticipation, wondering what had caused this uncharacteristic absence of speech. Just like anyone, the Hatter often ran out of important things to say, but that had never stopped him before from continuing to talk.

Reginald, however, was lost in thought. It occurred to him that this had been the most effort he had ever put into the pursuit of a woman. Though this was mainly so because it was often the female that did most of the pursuing, such a fact had never occurred to the Hatter, and so he was given an inflated sense of his own seductive potency. He knew he wouldn't have hung around this long for most of the females he had been with, save one that he didn't like to discuss or think about. So what was it about Alice that made her so worthwhile? He had never thought about it before.

It wasn't anything simple, like the color of her hair-even if he was partial to blondes-or the blue of her eyes. It wasn't the deliciously impartial way she treated him, or the unexpected manner with which she had began to observe him from time to time, as if she was studying some form of complex art and was searching for a meaning. It wasn't her refreshing preoccupation with books, the frantic way she chewed her nails and pencils to grainy stubs for oral satisfaction, or the dainty squeak of a sneeze that so many other girls seemed to force in order to sound more lovable. It couldn't have been her constant fragrance of honey and book dust, or the flush of her cheeks that reminded him of the essence of a tea-bag escaping into a pond of boiling hot water. And it _most certainly_ wasn't her quick wit and sophisticated vernacular that rivaled his, or even the amazing talent she seemed to have on the dance floor.

"_You know, most girls can't dance like that…"_ he thought to himself. "_And how many of them would even know what a dereliction of genetics was?" _

Regrettably, none of these attributes, however endearing they may have been to him, seemed like a justifiable cause for endless pursuit. At least, not for his rabbit friend, anyway.

"I don't know," Reginald admitted finally, an aura of baffled, somber defeat overcoming him.

The March Hare sighed, disappointedly. He had hoped there would be some definite sign that Reginald's interaction with Alice wouldn't go in the same direction as all of the others, but the Hatter had, unsurprisingly, failed to give him justification and assurance that the lady's character would be preserved.

"I see," The Hare responded disconcertingly, turning around in preparation of descending the table.

"I didn't want to have to choose between my two friends, Reginald," he confessed. "But I simply _can't_ let you-"

"Maybe you won't have to!" Reginald exclaimed suddenly with an abundance of elation.

"What are you talking-"

"Come with us both!" he encouraged, seizing the animal's shoulders.

"What, you mean on the date?" he relayed, disbelievingly.

"Of course on the date! You see, that way, you can be sure that I am a gentleman of honorable intentions, and most importantly, that Alice is _totally_ into me."

The Hare regarded the freckled man with an expression of horrified doubt.

"Somehow, I don't think Alice will agree with the logic behind this genius plan…"

Reginald released his death-grip on The March Hare's shoulders in order to extend his arms outward, emphatically, as he announced,

"But _that's_ what so genius about it! She'll never know because you'll be incognito! A phantom!"

"A phantom?"

"Well," he quickly corrected. "A phantom with a walkie-talkie. But nevertheless, we shall make for a natural Cyrano and Christian!"

The whole idea brimmed with impossibility, the Hare knew, and _not_ the silly, wonderful kind that he and his friend were accustomed to. This was the kind of impossibility that could possibly make someone very upset, specifically, someone with a very surprisingly nasty temper for her size.

On the other hand, as there always was a second perspective, accompanying Reginald on his date would be the equivalent of chaperoning. He would be there to make sure Alice stayed intact, both physically and mentally, and that Hatter behaved himself. Even better, the willingness to have him hovering a close distance behind boded well for Reginald's potential as a committed partner, or at least an individual that was more in-tune with the feelings of the opposite sex. As long as he remained in the background, no one would be the wiser.

"I've never heard a scheme more preposterous," The Hare said simply, crossing his arms over his chest. "But, then again, what else can I expect from a mad hatter? Anyway, you're success in this endeavor has so far exceeded my expectations, so whose to say it won't happen again?"

"Now there's some faith in your old friend!" The Hatter exclaimed, gathering the Rabbit up in a suffocating embrace and twirling them both around the perimeter of the table.

The March Hare, mouth obscured from being pressed into Reginald's chest, attempted to shriek complaints and writhe out of the crushing cocoon that was his friend's unexpectedly strong grasp.

"Oh, this is going to be wonderful!" Reginald declared, finally releasing the poor animal. "How delightful it is to have a chum of such unwavering dedication and loyalty!"

"Yes, quite," The Hare responded sarcastically, spitting bits of cotton, feather, and whatever else had accumulated on Reginald's jacket from his mouth.

"And between you and me, Ears," Reginald whispered slyly, his attempts to be secretive and devious negated by his unavoidably ridiculous face. "I may need a little bit of assistance in the articulation department, if you get my drift."

The March Hare gazed at him dubiously.

"Articulation? I thought you said she was crazy about you. Surely you've already said all the right things,"

The Hatter shook his head.

"Not entirely. The dance, you see, was mostly dancing, which she and I seem to do quite well together. There wasn't much time for talking, and so I suppose she just forgot that I am sometimes less than smooth-spoken. Besides, you're quite the impassioned mammal when it comes to word choice. Don't be modest now."

The Hare rolled his eyes, as he nodded his head, reluctantly.

"Oh very well, I suppose I can keep you from saying something entirely moronic and offensive."

"But I'll probably need one of those purple molars so I don't have to be discreet humungous walkie-talkie…" Reginald added contemplatively, scratching his chin and looking upwards.

"Uh," The Hare interrupted, uneasily. "You mean a Bluetooth?"

"Precisely!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow, finally, the next chapter. I apologize for the wait, as it was considerably longer than I had anticipated. Hopefully this won't be too unclimactic, but I wanted to hurry and wrap up this installment so that I could get out to you guys before I'm bereft of time. The reason for this is my move across the country in two days (I'm going from the south to the upper west coast). I'm not sure what my schedule is going to look like during this time, so I can't guarantee a speedy update, though I'll certainly try. Anyway, I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. Don't forget to review! =)

Oh, and don't forget that I'm completely in the dark when it comes to Disneyland. Any inconsistencies can be attributed to the fact that I've never been and am basing all of my knowledge off of internet research.

_Also, _though this will be a bit more pertinent in the next chapter, _Audition_ was a movie that I found on an online list made by the New York Times of the 10 Worst Date Movies. I believe it was Kevin Maher that made this addition to the list. Anyway, it's a rather gruesome Japanese movie, from what I understand, with a plotline that could qualify for a legitimate birth control method, as there is no way this film could get you in the mood. I don't want to go too in-depth about the plotline as it may spoil some of the funny of the next chapter, but you're more than welcome to research it (or even rent it, if you dare) to see what I'm talking about. I don't plan to watch it, that's for sure.

Disclaimer- I keep forgetting to do this, though I know that many sites are buckling down on it and getting extra crotchety. Just to state the obvious, Alice and Wonderland characters are property of Disney and, I guess, Lewis Caroll. Captain Hook and subsequent Pirates of the Caribbean characters are also property of Disney. Reginald Theophilius is strictly Bri Chan and Rain's character, and the comic this story is based on, When Curiosity Met Insanity, was created and is owned by them. And they are geniuses. =)

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Twilight had begun its descent over downtown, as the remnants of the Californian sun glowed softly in a blush of violet, marked by slashes of sharp, reddish pinks. The bright, starry lights of the nighttime businesses were already beginning to flash on, while the first few crowds of nightlife began to crowd the streets. The warm, gentle winds of May had provided for a mild day, but tended to fade into a pleasant chill worthy enough for long-sleeves when the sun retired to bed. Due to this change, many of the women who had been ambitious enough to try their spaghetti-strapped dresses for the nighttime escapades found that they would have to wait until June or later in the month, and could be spotted disappointedly shrugging on the coat of the gentleman they accompanied.

Reginald, anticipating such a request from his female companion, had already discarded his orange jacket and had it slung over his forearm as he and the Hare waited patiently against a lamp post at a corner not too far from the cinema.

"Now, just so we both understand the plan," The Hare began, assembling his walkie-talkie equipment. "I will first hide behind this mailbox when Alice arrives."

Reginald eyed the blue object and nodded accordingly.

"From there on, I will continue to remain hidden a few paces behind you at all times."

"What kind of traction do you think we get on these things?" Reginald queried, toying with the ear-bud that was obscured from view within his ear-canal. "I mean, is it a generous radius or are we going to fade out the minute I walk a foot from you?"

The Hare returned the question with a glare of impatience.

"Please, just _try_ to concentrate."

Instead, Reginald began to eye his reflection in a nearby car window, adjusting his bow-tie and primping his hair. His expression seemed to be one of disapproval rather than admiration, as he curled his lips to check for particles of food that may have become lodged.

"What's the matter?" The Hare asked, taking notice of his friend's distress.

Reginald turned from the window to look down at his furry-friend, his eyes riddled with concern.

"Ears, do you think…"

He faltered for a moment, hesitant to resume the sentence for reasons that, the Hare feared, made the question itself a bit awkward.

"…do you think I'm…well, that is to say…"

"Come on old boy, out with it!" The Rabbit encouraged, leaping to give the Hatter a gentle, but firm slap on the back.

"…do you think I'm…pleasant looking?"

"What?" he responded, tilting his head and causing his ears to flop over to one side. "You mean handsome?"

"Well, for lack of a better word…" The Hatter conceded, appearing a bit ashamed at agreeing to reveal the question at all, but eager to hear his friend's reply.

The March Hare struggled, momentarily, to produce an adequate response. He appeared obviously flabbergasted, wondering how he could conjure up an opinion that was neither a lie nor offensive.

"Well, Reggie, beauty is the eye of the beholder…"

Reginald sighed, his shoulders slumping forward in despair. "I knew it…" he admitted. "I'm hideous!"

"No, no, no, you're not hideous!" The Hare assured quickly, mentally attempting to come up with ways to remedy the situation.

The problem was, the March Hare didn't exactly know what Reginald needed to hear to restore his self-esteem. The rabbit suspected that his friend wanted his features to be likened to those of any of the typical heartthrobs around Disneyland, specifically, Prince Phillip or the other kind, raven-haired prince who was dating that fiery redhead-both of whose names currently escaped the Hare. But to tell him such a thing would be a blatant falsehood, and the March Hare simply didn't lower himself to such a standard, especially to friends.

However, this wasn't to say that Reginald was a sore-sight. There were far more unattractive individuals gallivanting about, to be sure. The only offenses Reginald had were the two attributes that often caused him the most criticism and grief- his nose and his unfortunately large front teeth. The freckles, though largely unusual in generically attractive men, could be considered endearing. Other than those anomalies, he was gifted with an impressive six-foot stature, broad shoulders, and a strong chin, that rivaled even that of Phillip's.

The Hare didn't neglect to remind him of these fortunate accessories before saying simply,

"You're not a foul-looking fellow, Reginald. Why else would so many women fawn over you?"

The Hatter nodded half-heartedly, giving the Hare a thankful semi-grin, even while thinking to himself,

_With the exception of one…_

Almost as if on cue, the Hare caught sight of Alice in the near proximity. He gave Reginald an encouraging pat on the shoulder before bounding off behind the cover of the near-by mailbox. As The Hatter watched her approach, his confidence was restored upon noticing her cradling her bare arms in the sting of the chilly evening breeze. He shifted the coat on his arm and struck a genteel pose, forgetting his appearance woes altogether.

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The clack of her shoes against the pavement seemed to measure the departure of the last, few blissful moments before she greeted Reginald at the street corner. The hesitance she had once felt towards him as person was now replaced by the uncertainty of her feelings, the vague, dubious emotions that surrounded him in her mind, brought upon by outside criticism and what others expected of her.

He was rude, boisterous, outspoken, and overly-energetic. His behavior was that of a five year old- hardly the kind of attributes she was taught to appreciate in the opposite sex. He _certainly_ was not suited for her. All this she had been quite certain of before the night at her window. Before he had expressed to her that she had taken his breath away, before he had crazily risked life and limb to deliver her a measly, three-petaled flower. It was before he had made her laugh.

_He makes me laugh._

When was the last time she had laughed so genuinely? Not the polite, feminine giggle at stuffed-shirt gatherings, not the forced chuckle at a customer's attempt at humor in the library, but a real, deep-throated laugh that took no effort to dramatize. She supposed such a phenomenon was not known to her since childhood, when laughter was not considered inappropriate or impolite.

"Goooood evening, cricket," the familiar voice bellowed, signaling her close-proximity to him that had arrived sooner than she anticipated. "I see you've forgotten your cool weather attire!"

Alice looked down at her sleeveless spring frock, the source of the unmistakable goose bumps, and failed to suppress a grin behind her hand.

"I see you've forgotten your hat, Mr. Theophilus."

The Hatter's eyes wandered to the top of his head, nearly rolling backwards in their sockets. One might have thought he was just realizing the absence of his faithful head accessory.

"Oh, yes," he chuckled, brushing the matter away. "Out of courtesy for our fellow audience members, of course."

Alice nodded, giggling slightly upon recalling the mental image of his hat's size.

"How very thoughtful of you, sir."

He bowed slightly, extending the orange coat that had been folded over his arm.

"Perhaps, you would like some protection from our freakish, mid-spring weather?" he offered.

Alice eyed the garment uncertainly, as if expecting it to be laced with some form of powder-based poison. Her eyes then darted around the vicinity suspiciously, searching for any stray gossip-mongers before she gradually reached out a hand to accept the gift.

"Oh, do allow me," Reginald begged, adjusting the collar of the jacket in his hands so to pose it for Alice's body.

She turned her back to him obligingly, sweeping her thick strands of blonde hair over her shoulder.

Reginald couldn't help but notice how the overhead streetlight danced off the shine in her hair as she repositioned it, reminding him of the glint of a pocket watch when flicked open in the sun.

_My, how I do love pocket watches. _

Alice couldn't help to suppress the unwanted blush that had emerged on her cheeks and begun creeping slyly over the span of her face as Reginald slipped the coat over her shoulders. There was something particularly gentlemanly and winsome about the uncharacteristic gesture that she found herself enjoying far too much.

"Well, then," she spoke suddenly, hoping to end the discomfort of the moment. "Shall we proceed to the cinema?"

The Hatter nodded enthusiastically.

"What movie did you want to see, my dear?" he questioned, to which she opened her mouth as if to give a response, but was abruptly cut off by his delighted train of thought. "There are so _many _promising films out, now. Why, I can't really decide, myself. There's the one about theft in a casino-do you like action films?-or the one about the mysterious call that comes from inside the house. Inside? Can you imag-"

Alice gently slipped her arm under the crook of his, locking their elbows securely. She then lightly placed her opposite hand on his bicep, leaned into his side, and proceeded to stroll gradually with him down the sidewalk. All of these sudden developments seemed to distract Reginald from continuing his impassioned speech on current cinema, which was quite the thing, as cinema happened to be yet another topic that he found he could talk about for hours on end.

When Reginald glanced down at her in baffled amusement due to her willingness to be somewhat pressed against him, she explained simply,

"Its quite cold out this evening, and I hadn't forgotten how unnaturally warm you are. If I was with anyone else I'd undoubtedly develop hypothermia, don't you think?"

_She thinks I'm warm…? She thinks I'm warm!_

No one, of any sex, had ever described him as warm. The adjective was basic, and could have been used by a physician diagnosing the flu. In this case, however, the word took on an elevated meaning that Reginald never knew it was capable of. Alice calling him _warm_ made him feel useful, like a fire or cup of cocoa after a walk in the snow. It made him feel more sensitive, more emotionally in-tune. He felt protective and vigilant, even somewhat more masculine. _Warm_ meant that she felt safe with him, that the trust level had been upped a few points. Though he didn't mind that she was more inclined to making physical contact with him, the fact that she felt secure in his presence seemed significantly more important.

"Reginald,"

The sound of her voice suddenly broke him from his reverie, causing him to think she expected a response to, what he assumed to be, a rhetorical question.

"Oh, hypothermia, yes," he agreed. "As far as warm goes, I'm just about the warmest. You're lucky you were accompanying _me_ tonight and not someone more frigid, like _Lumiere…"_

Alice tilted her head to one-side, glancing at him as she pointed out,

"But wasn't he formerly a candle?"

Reginald rolled his eyes, shrugging off this contradictory fact.

"All the more reason why he can't be trusted."

Alice found the logic of candles being inexplicably untrustworthy somewhat humorous, but not worth a back and forth argument of what, exactly, candles were guilty of that made them less deserving of said trust. Nevertheless, she failed to suppress the inevitable giggle as a result of his absurdity.

Attempting to shift the subject to something more pertinent, she regained her composure and said to him seriously,

"Reginald, there's a matter of importance I've been meaning to discuss with you-"

The shimmer of the cinema lights immediately flooded their vicinity, and along with the darkness of approaching night, stole Reginald's complete concentration. The young man neglected the comforting crook of his companion's arm to dash towards the irresistible halo of illumination.

Alice, however, had managed to observe an entirely different quality of the cinema. Over the original lighted letters that spelled out Main Street Cinema, was a large, crudely cut plank of wood that read, "The Jolly Roger Theatre" in an ominous crimson paint. Underneath this replacement title was the unnecessary, Under New Management!, scrawled in a careless splotch of black.

She pulled the orange coat higher up on her shoulders, having just received an inexplicable shiver up the length of her spine.

"This must have happened recently. I walked right past here not a week ago…"

Reginald, having selectively not heard her, seized her wrist and pulled her hastily with him towards the box office window.

"Can't you just smell the butter of the popcorn? Come, cricket, the wonders of the motion picture theatre await us inside!"

Alice found she did not share the same enthusiasm, as the newer sign had bestowed upon her a feeling of reluctance.

"Don't you find that new sign a bit odd?" she questioned, gazing up at it suspiciously.

Unfortunately, the Hatter had once again denied her observance, and instead approached the box office window with just enough restraint to keep his feet on the ground.

"_Reginald,_" she repeated, pleading for his concern.

When she was forced to tear her line of sight away from the change in advertisement in an effort to regain her date's attention, she noticed an entirely different oddity. The ticket hawker within the box of glass was, unmistakably, the wooden-eyed pirate Ragetti donned in the typical, pinstripe, barbershop-quartet uniform.

This peculiar fact seemed to elude the Hatter (as did most things, seemingly, at this particular moment) as he proceeded to say cordially,

"Greetings, my good man! What sort of movie can you recommend for us this evening?"

Leaning in and whispering softly so Alice wouldn't hear, he added,

"Something _date-worthy_ would be preferable. Perhaps, some film filled with frightening scenes that would cause her to jump all over me? Or something so awful we'll have to make-out in order to avoid watching it would be great too…"

The pirate -or possibly former, as his new profession seemed to be in show business- scratched his chin contemplatively, squinting his false eye as he searched his thoughts.

"Perchance the lady would like to see _Audition_?" he offered, grinning and chortling wickedly.

"_Audition?" _The familiar voice of the Hare suddenly exclaimed in the depths of Reginald's auditory tunnel. "_Isn't that the movie about the girl who chops up the men she dates?" _

Reginald cringed slightly, narrowing his eyebrows in confusion at the skeletally skinny young man in the booth.

"And you think she'll enjoy that?" he questioned uncertainly.

"Well, even if she doesn't," Ragetti smirked with a kind of dopey deviousness. "She'll at least have a reason to snog with yeh'"

This seemed to be justification enough for the Hatter, as he proceeded to plop down the required amount of cash for two tickets and receive them with exceptional graciousness and mirth.

Alice, remaining unconvinced and still oblivious to what cinematic surprises were in-store for her, braced the box-office window with every intention of interrogating the man within.

"Ragetti, have you retired from piracy?" she inquired benignly.

Alice's inquiry caused Ragetti's face to abruptly transpose from a thick-headed treacherousness to one that was on the face of any guilty grade school child that had ever been sent to the Principal's office.

"No," he stated plainly. "I'm…moonlighting."

"Oh, how nice!" the blonde woman smiled, receiving a blushing, bashful beam from Ragetti. "Its good to have an honest activity outside of an illegitimate one. Why, I don't know if you were aware, but our Queen of Hearts has gotten quite talented at croquet. When she's in a good mood and has put the decapitations on hiatus for a day, it can be quite pleasant to play against her. Now, I'm no psychologist, but I'd say that such an activity has actually relieved her vile temper-"

Reginald, having heard enough pleasantries and eager to see if Ragetti's _snogging_ theory had any merit to it, rejoined his elbow with hers and cautiously, yet determinedly, pulled her with him towards the front entrance doors.

"Well, goodbye Mr. Ragetti! So nice to talk to you!" she cooed, wiggling her fingers as she disappeared from his view into the theatre.

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Thanks to the unnoticeably miniscule size of rabbits, and perhaps also to Ragetti's lack of wit, The March Hare was able to elude the ticket hawker and make it into the cinema for free. After all, there was no earthly way he was paying full-price to see dismemberment.

His short stature and agility served him well once again, as he managed to slip past ticket-taker Pintel as soon as Reginald and Alice had passed and gained a few feet from him. Though Pintel was, admittedly, much smarter than Ragetti, it didn't hurt the Hare's chances that the pirate seemed to be enraptured by a hand-held video game that he hid cleverly behind his wooden booth.

As odd as a pirate playing a portable video game-or working ticket sales at a movie theatre- was, it so happened to be the least of the curiosities within the cinema. The snack bar provided a new array of privateer theatre employees, all indisputably members of Captain Hook's crew. Like Ragetti and Pintel, all of them were suited up in the pinstripe uniforms with the matching skimmer hat, which made them look as ridiculous and misplaced as prostitutes in a nunnery.

Something about the matter didn't sit quite right with the Hare. As far as he was aware, there had been no financial troubles with the plundering business on Tom Sawyer Island. Evidence of this fact was Captain Barbossa's new extravagant, and obnoxiously gargantuan feathered hat that he took every opportunity to show off. Not to mention the fact that Captain Hook seemed to be having successively increasing luck in scoring dates, which could only be attributed to generous wealth. Since there was no logical reason for the pirates to be working double jobs, the Hare concluded that there was a second agenda at hand. Furthermore, he was willing to range a bet that it had something to do with Reginald and Alice.

_Why else would Ragetti have suggested such a grotesque flick? Aside from the fact that he's pretty grotesque himself…_

"Hey Reg," he spoke softly into the walkie-talkie's receiver. "I'll be right behind you. I'm just going to do a little detective work…"

"_Roger that,"_ The crackly voice of Reginald whispered back, to which the Hare rolled his eyes. The Hatter had begged for them to use _trucker talk_ and _radio code_, and had even come close to throwing a temper-tantrum when the Hare refused to call him "Soaring Eagle". He would have undoubtedly made such a scene, if he had not been distracted by the kitchen sink faucet's rhythmic drip.

There unexpectedly came the distressed cry of a young woman-the Hare guessed between the age of 16 and 19- from a nearby "Employees Only" room. The screech was brief, and seemed to have been cut-off or muffled by cloth. The firm voice of an older man was slightly detectable following her cry. Of course, such a scenario could have only been heard by the proficient auditory ability of a rabbit's ears, of which the Hare was extremely proud.

The sound had caused his bunny senses to tingle, and despite the countless times Reginald had tried to convince him that said senses were reserved for superheroes and not rodents, the Hare followed his instinct and stealthily approached the threshold of the room.

Hidden behind a life-size cardboard cut-out of Indiana Jones, the Hare crouched down and peered around the edge of the doorframe to observe the scene within.

"As long as you all cooperate," Captain Hook's unavoidably pretentious voice warned. "There should be few problems for you from my men. What they do after I leave the room, however, is entirely out of my hands…"

The group the Captain seemed to be addressing was a generous size of teenagers, clad only in their undergarments, and clearly the proper employees of the theatre, the outfits of whom the pirates had stolen. They had been gagged with handkerchiefs and bound together in a tight clump by ship's rope, and now jostled furiously from their seated position on the floor of the room.

"Now, men," The Captain addressed his cohorts, brushing away the younger captives. "Though I am strictly adamant about your staying here to guard these brats, I think it no less imperative that you are aware of the plan of sabotage."

"_Sabotage?_" The Hare wondered to himself. _"But who could pirates want to sabotage within a movie theatre?" _

"Helga, and that white-haired woman named Kida, have clearly identified our targets. A young woman that I like to call the blonde Wendy-"

"Alice Lidell, Cap'n," a pirate in the far corner of the room corrected. " Librarian wif' that Belle girl, she is."

An uncomfortable silence ensued as Captain Hook regarded the man's insolent outspokenness with fierce umbrage.

"If I had ample time, Mr. Crimp, I'd have gutted you personally for that disgustingly brave assertion of yours. Given that said time is limited, I shall do you the most gracious favor of sparing your life. For the time being, the girl shall be known as the blonde Wendy. Understood?"

Mr. Crimp and his co-workers nodded, mumbling less than sincere agreements.

"You should be exceedingly gracious of me, sir," Captain Hook added, threateningly.

"You're too kind, sir," Mr. Crimp responded unenthusiastically. "I shall never forget the mercy you have shown me."

Oblivious to the treacherous sarcasm of his crew, Hook continued his impassioned outlining of the strategy, undoubtedly one that he had devised on his own. Or, quite possibly, one that he had been greatly assisted in devising and was presently taking all the credit for. At one point, he referred to Reginald as the "taller, white-haired, adult Peter Pan", and though no one corrected him this time, the Rabbit knew as to who he was referring. However, Hook's repeated reference to his foes made the Hare wonder if he didn't think of everyone in terms of a Wendy/Peter Pan archetype. The thought alone creeped him out a little bit.

Having heard the last bit of the scheme, the Hare didn't hesitate to warn his friends whose well-being was at stake. He hastily and furtively bounced out from behind the protective cover of the Indiana Jones cut-out, and made his way towards the theatre that housed the endangered couple.

"Reg," he barked in a sharp whisper as he made his way across the hall, intending to divulge the rather extravagant plan to its full-extent before fetching them both.

"Reg! Reginald! Do you read me?"

There continued to be no answer from the other end, causing the Hare to panic slightly. As he tried to think of a logical explanation for the delay in response, the concept of Reginald and Alice practicing what couples usually practice within the concealing darkness of a movie theatre immediately came to mind, and he discovered that he found this more frightening than the likelihood of them being affected by sabotage.

"Reginald, if you don't answer me right. This. Instant…"

The hard, unforgiving grasp of large, calloused fingers suddenly clamped down on the scruff of the Hare's neck, yanking him up from the carpet and causing him to drop the walkie-talkie on the floor, whereupon it broke into segmented pieces of plastic and metal wiring. Humid, alcohol-sodden breath belched laughter onto the top of his head, emitted by what ever force possessed the hand that had gathered him up from the ground.

"Well, well, well…lookie wot' we got here, Ragetti…"

It came as no surprise to the rabbit that the man responsible was Pintel, and he cursed himself for not responding to the pirate's unmistakable stench of lacking hygiene that seemed to be growing stronger as he attempted to get Reginald's attention.

"It's a lil' bunny rabbit, it is!" Ragetti chimed in with his signature imbecilic guffaw.

"I think the cute lil' bunny forgot to pay for his ticket," Pintel mocked sinisterly, turning the Hare around to view his rather unpleasant façade.

Ragetti, who the Hare could now see a few steps away from Pintel, continued to chortle and cover his mouth giddily, like a school girl who had caught sight of her athletically-inclined crush.

Pintel drew his fist backwards, prepping it for the inevitable smack into the Hare's face.

"Time to pay up, fuzzy."

------------------------------------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- So I bet a lot of you guys who have been following this thought this day would never come, eh? I know, I updated for the first time in months! Has hell frozen over? XD

I happened to find this file on my computer this morning while I was doing some 'summer cleaning' and, for the life me, I can't figure out why it never got uploaded. I must have finished it sometime last year, even. Perhaps I kept putting it off and then forgot altogether? Likely.

For all of you who have enjoyed this story and are still following it, I just wanted to give you all a big thanks, first and foremost. I'm so glad my work/hobby has entertained you all. Your support is encouraging and appreciated.

As far as the status of this story is concerned, I have to be honest and confess that it probably won't be updated again for a long time. I'm sort of ADD in my fandom interests and right now my focus just isn't geared on this project (I realize it hasn't been for a good while, and I apologize for that). I don't like saying 'never' when it comes to story updates because I really never know where my fascination is going to fixate from week-to-week. I may have a WCMI phase again and finish this, who knows? For what it matters, I _do _have a plot mapped out that should cover another chapter or two, so if my interest ever does come around again, I won't be suffering from writer's block (I hope).

For the time being, I hope you enjoy this latest installment. Thanks again for all of your support and kind words!

* * *

Esmeralda and Megara had always been teased by the other two women in their group for being the most neurotic and paranoid. Given that they were part of the most nonconformist, cynical group of females Disneyland had to offer, this wasn't saying much. Still, Esmeralda found it pivotal that every social group have at least one person of this persuasion to talk the others down from doing something completely stupid, not unlike a mother to her children. While Megara mostly kept these fears to herself, Esmeralda was not afraid of being more outspoken, and had repeatedly advised Kida and Helga not to involve villains, much less pirates, in their half-brained scheme to win back Reginald's full attention.

It was no surprise then that both the aforementioned women felt particularly uncomfortable celebrating the plan's victory with Helga and Kida in the Tom Sawyer Island Port Bar. They knew that at some point they had been coerced into going, but when they actually arrived and ordered their drinks, both had forgotten whatever was said that had the power to get them here in the first place, and immediately searched for convenient segues out of the situation.

Helga and Kida, however, were not bashful about indulging themselves with a bit of everything the Port Bar had to offer-mostly rum and brandy- and as their consumption of liquor increased, so did their felicity at the success of the plan. Or rather, the most imminent success, as it seemed highly likely that all would go smoothly even if it had yet to occur.

"Here's to us!" Helga exclaimed, raising a mug high into the smoke-filled air.

"And our brilliance!" Kida added, clanking Helga's tankard with her own. "Together, we can accomplish _anything._"

Megara rolled her eyes at Esmeralda as she hovered over the only mug of ale she had ordered since they'd gotten there, while Kida and Helga quickly downed their third and began signaling to Long John the cyborg for another round.

Esmeralda returned Megara's expression mutually, and after taking a draw of her cigarette said to her friends,

"Well, girls, I suppose that's enough for one night. Whadda ya' say we go back to my place and paint our nails, or something feminine like that?"

Helga laughed heartily and with an enthusiasm that was rather unwarranted for the situation. "Look who's the designated driver tonight, ladies!"

"Whatsa' matter Ezzie?" Kida slurred. "Finally takin' those AA meetings seriously?"

The ember of Esmeralda's cigarette glowed a threateningly burnt orange as she inhaled deeply, proceeding to release the smoke calmly, as if in attempt to maintain her temper. Megara, however, could still see the ferocity dancing in her tawny eyes and knew immediately that Kida and Helga's comment was not taken without offense.

"I think we should go," Esmeralda stated sharply, stubbing out the cigarette after taking a final puff.

Kida, looking a bit flabbergasted, slovenly put her arm around the gypsy's shoulders.

"_Come on, _Ezzie," she pleaded. "Stay and celebrate with us! Soon our favorite bachelor will be back on the market! If that's not reason enough to have a few drinks, I don't know what is…"

"What, _exactly_, is going to happen tonight at the theatre?" Megara interrupted, eyeing the two female cohorts with dread.

Kida and Helga exchanged knowing, mischievous glances from across the wooden table, and initially answered Megara's query with a subsequent giggle.

Esmeralda, having begun to rapidly lose her composure, firmly snapped her fingers in the space between Kida and Helga's heads.

"Hey!" she spat. "What's _happening _tonight at the theater?"

Helga grinned, and before taking another sip from her tankard, said suggestively,

"Lets just say Alice Lidell is _history_."

The Atlantean and the blonde shared a high five before knocking back their fourth drink. The two other women, however, simply eyed them in horror, having realized that they may have underestimated the seriousness of the situation.

"And what the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?" Esmeralda demanded to know, roughly yanking at Helga's shoulder to get her attention.

After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Helga proceeded to coarsely remove Esmeralda's grasp from her body.

"Don't touch me like that _again, _Esmeralda…". The possibility of a bar cat-fight flickered in her arctic-blue eyes.

"Or what, you'll snub me out like everyone else that slightly annoys you?" she countered, beginning to gather her things.

Helga and Kida gazed at their two friends in a drunken disbelief as they rose from their seats in a fury, furtively collecting their purses.

"You know, I'm not the biggest fan of people like Alice, or Aurora, or Prince Phillip _either, _but I'd never be so dense as to risk death row just to wipe the smug expressions of their blonde little heads_._" Esmeralda scolded.

"Especially for the sake of _some guy,_" Megara added, resentment not any more absent from her voice.

After shifting her elaborately designed Hungarian shawl over her shoulders, Esmeralda shoved another cigarette in her mouth and held it securely between her already tightly clenched teeth as she searched her bag for a lighter.

"Lets get out of here, Meg," she suggested, after having accomplished the lighting.

As both brunettes headed for the exit, Helga swiveled around in her seat to get a better view, and Kida peered around determinedly, both anticipating a quick return.

"They're just going out for a smoke," Helga dismissed bitterly, turning back around to face Kida.

"I dunno," Kida replied, sounding uncertain. "I think they're mad at us."

Helga took a swig of whatever now inhabited the very bottom of her mug and slammed the item down on the mahogany table with a resounding _clunk._

"Yeah, well, their loss…"

She then rose from the table and began to weave her way through the strategically placed tables and chairs, mostly all uninhabited as a majority of the pirates were out tonight, working on their behalf at the cinema.

"Where are you going?" Kida called after her, not noticing Long John Silver's wince as he polished mugs.

Both of the ladies' volume had been considerably louder than Silver would have preferred, and it was all the more aggravating that they were the only individuals in the bar causing it. When business was a constant roar, that was entirely tolerable for his extra-sensitive cyborg hearing. But when women who had been drinking more then they should began erratically shouting at one another in their feminine, screech-owl voices, it was all the man-bot could do to keep from blasting both of them.

"I gotta take a leak," Helga shouted back crudely, oblivious to Silver's groan and subsequent run of his hand over the gun-trigger in his wiring.

* * *

The gurgle of straw against the glass of an empty coke bottle resonated through the theatre, the only auditory sound accompanying the boom of the movie trailers. The space was dark, damp, and cold, lit only by the quickly changing frames of the elephantine screen before them. They were alone with the reflected images on the large canvas, no doubt due to the reported content of the movie that might detract those with weaker stomachs. It made no difference to him what horrors could be found in said film, as his main feature tonight would be the young blonde seated beside him.

She continued to nurse the red and white striped straw that protruded from her pop bottle long after all the liquid had been exhausted. Her remarkably indigo eyes glittered from the glow of the screen, hypnotized by the cinematic nature of the movie previews. It was then that he first realized how much her eyes reminded him of a swimming pool in the middle of hot July afternoon, the soaring temperature making the prospect of diving into the cool depths all the more inviting.

This was all very well, but he wished she would be paying the same amount of attention to him that he was to her. Anyway, wasn't there some sort of rule of etiquette that made it only proper for couples on a date in a movie theatre to make-out? And in an empty theatre no less, it had to be an expectation. Yes, tonight he would definitely find out what Alice's lips tasted like. But first, he had to broach the subject. Gently, of course, and respectfully. Despite what the Hare thought, he _was_ a gentleman.

Gradually, so as not to abruptly disturb Alice's movie-watching-reverie, he slid his hand towards the nearly microscopic button that would relieve the only barrier standing between she and him- the armrest. He felt the metallic bump underneath his index finger, and nonchalantly stared at the cinema screen, hoping to give the impression that his attention was focused there. Biting his lower lip, squeezing his eyelids shut, and buckling his toes beneath the upper padding of his feet, he pressed down, prepared for whatever mayhem might ensue as a result.

The satisfying click of the armrest hoisting itself upwards caused him to reopen his eyes. Alice, seemingly, had taken no notice of the change, and continued to suck mindlessly on the plastic straw, observing the screen with the same relish. Grinning mischievously, he pivoted his body slightly, so as to face more towards her. He had just begun the typical stretch-and-yawn tactic, when he noticed the pale, dainty hand of his date upon the armrest, preventing it from continuing its path out-of-the-way.

He eyed her in a suspicious disbelief, wondering if she had perceived his movement and consequently prevented him from accomplishing his goal.

The hand that remained on the unattached rest locked it back into place, firmly and purposefully, eyes never wavering from the screen before her.

"I would _love_ to see that movie," she commented on the latest trailer, as if nothing had just occurred. "Kevin Bacon is one of my favorite actors."

He could only stare at her, dumbfounded. Had she known of his intents, or had she simply thought the rest had come loose on its own?

"He's _alright…_" The Hatter added halfheartedly, eyeing her with skepticism.

_Now _he was in a pickle. His attempts had been foiled, which would have been fine had Alice made it blatantly clear that she wanted the protection of the barrier to remain, which he suspected was the case. But as was typical of Reginald, he never did or didn't do something unless he knew for a fact that it was something he should or shouldn't do. In this case, whether or not he should try to remove the armrest was rather ambiguous. So should he attempt it once more? Well, she hadn't told him explicitly not to…

Once more, his hand made a stealthy slither for the familiar, indented button. All it would take was one push when Alice was caught unawares, and the walls between them would be gone. Well, the _literal_ walls, anyway.

This time, however, that same delicate, porcelain hand fell upon his with a surprising amount of strength. The tiny fingers clutched his knuckles, adamantly tugging it away from the small device.

At first, he attempted to fight it, pulling in the opposite direction, determined to press the button. If there was any doubt of Alice's attitude towards the situation, it had now been confirmed. Even if she was still looking emotionlessly at the movie screen, her iron grip spoke volumes. But this didn't matter to the Hatter- it was war.

This back-and-forth struggle ensued for a minute or two, before Reginald happened upon an ingenious plan. He abruptly halted his defiance of her efforts and graciously embraced his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together like a woven basket. _This_ succeeded in winning Alice's attention, the glittering blue eyes darting over to him in shock.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously, amazingly making no effort to rip her hand away from his.

"I'm holding hands with you," he replied. "_…duh." _

Initially, the expression on Alice's face told him that she'd not be caught dead doing what she was currently doing, and if he valued the use of his fingers, had best remove them immediately. This attitude quickly, and noticeably softened, causing a sigh of defeat to escape her lips as she fell back in the cushion of her seat.

"Touche," she said simply, reluctantly cracking a grin.

Reginald eased back in his chair, gently squeezing her hand in his, smiling in satisfaction.

"That's what I thought."

* * *

Before the fisted knuckles had even made contact, the Hare could already feel the crushing collision of solid bone and muscle to his soft, whiskery mass of a face. His beloved two front teeth, vital to all self-respecting rabbits, would be knocked clear out of his head in a shower of blood and tears. His once charming, handsome visage would be instantly transformed into a unrecognizable conglomeration of bruises and welts.

And _frankly, _there was nothing he could do but squeeze his eyes shut and wrap his tiny paws around his head futilely.

"Belay the taunting of that furry swab, gents," a familiar voice intervened. "We've got bigger fish to fry."

The tone was coarse and strained, haggard from years of shouting commands to a milieu of pirates in the midst of roaring hurricanes, not to mention the gallons of rum and pounds of smoked pipe tobacco that had undoubtedly assisted in the degeneration.

When the Hare had acquired the necessary amount of gumption to open his eyes and release his grip on his head, he was not at all surprised to observe the one-and-only Captain Barbossa standing before them, complete with his leather-skinned face and ridiculously extravagant new hat.

"But Cap'n," Pintel protested. "The lil' bugger was sneakin' about!"

"Up to no good, he was," Ragetti added assuredly.

"I said put him down!" The captain barked. "Or it'll be the keelhaul for both of yeh'"

Pintel released his death-grip on the nape of the Hare's neck, causing him to hit the floor like a ten-pound sack of potatoes. The rabbit winced after impact, carefully rubbing the area of his backside that had taken the brunt of the force.

"Yeh' couple of bilge-suckin' dogs," Barbossa scolded. "What could bloody well be accomplished from playin' with rabbits when we've got a theatre to commandeer?"

The Hare had just begun to gather the remnants of his walkie-talkie and hasten away to his endangered friends, when his fine-tuned hearing caught interest at the end of Barbossa's sentence.

"He was up to sumfin' Cap'n," Pintel insisted.

Ragetti nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, yeah, he didn't pay for his ticket!"

Barbossa raised a jewel-encrusted, bony, weather-worn hand as if to back-hand his crew members for their idiocy. Ragetti issued a falsetto squeal before jumping directly behind Pintel's much larger, and assumingly, protective form.

"A couple of addle plated fools, yeh are! So help me, I use yeh' both for shark bait!"

The Hare assumed as respectable a pose as possible, considering his backend was smarting beyond reason, and politely coughed to re-earn the pirates' attention.

"Pardon me, gentlemen…?"

Barbossa's head slowly swiveled around and peered at the animal below him through the opening between his raised arm and shoulder, frozen in his potential-striking stance. Pintel gave the rabbit a quizzical look, while Ragetti cautiously peered over his mate's shoulder, only his eyes and nose visible.

Having gotten no audible response from his audience, the Hare continued his train of thought.

"Yes, well…I couldn't help but overhear your…conversation…and it seems you are planning to commandeer this theatre? Is that correct?"

In flurry of movement, Barbossa spun around completely and seized the Hare by his maroon collar, bringing him level with his face and allowing him to smell breath far worse than Pintel's.

"And whats it to yeh', long ears?" he growled threateningly.

"Well, sir," the Hare began uneasily, trying his best to hold his breath and speak simultaneously. "It appears this theatre has already been commandeered by a pirate crew, and what I was curious to know is-"

Once more, the unfortunate Hare was tossed roughly to the floor, landing ungracefully on his tender behind.

"Are yeh suggestin' I don't know that already?" Barbossa challenged. "Do yeh' think I was just a lil' late? That _another_ band of blaggards beat me to it? Are yeh' sayin' I'm a second rate Cap'n?"

"Not at all, sir," the Rabbit assured with a grimace, flinching as he attempted to stand. "I was merely curious as to what your intentions were. Clearly you are not in cahoots in with Captain Hook…"

The three gentleman of fortune elicited a huge, unrelenting laugh at this statement, Barbossa throwing his head back dangerously in the midst of his felicity. Pintel slapped his knees and doubled over slightly. Ragetti assumed his familiar feminine chuckle, as if he was an eight year old girl allowed the privilege to hang out with the exceedingly more popular girls, and vowed to laugh at whatever they deemed to be funny, even if the reason for doing so was not completely understood.

"Hector Barbossa? In cahoots with…Captain…James…Hook?" Pintel repeated hilariously, finding it hard to finish his sentence in between guffaws.

"Perhaps yeh' think I was joinin' him for _tea_?" Barbossa added incredulously.

The Hare's indignation had been building ever since Barbossa's referral to him as a _fuzzy swab_. Due to unavoidable intimidation, however, the rabbit had managed to keep a fairly solid lid on any retaliatory comments. But Captain Barbossa's mocking of tea had taken things too far. He'd have been a cowardly fool to let a comment like that slip.

"N-Now see here," The Hare began, voice slowly raising in volume. "I don't see how you can expect anyone to tell one of _your kind_ from the other. As far as I'm concerned you all swagger around in a state of constant intoxication, singing about wine and women, neglecting proper showers and dental care, helping yourself to the riches of someone far more defenseless than you…!"

This outburst of little-thought-out bravery had put a temporary vale of silence over the trio. They had never expected the cotton-tailed fellow to talk back to them, much less put them in their place, as he seemed to be accomplishing.

"F-Further more," he continued, unabated. "_I _simply wanted to know because it appears we're on the same-side of the coin. Whether you were aware of it or not, not that it probably matters to you in the slightest, Captain Hook's crew were hired tonight to take-out two of my friends-who are on a date- on behalf of two jealous women."

"Hmmm," Barbossa smirked, crossing his arms over his chest victoriously. "Then perhaps we should do the deed ourselves and collect the pay. Whadda yeh' say, boys?"

The two behind him grinned and cackled devilishly, revealing rows of rotted, missing, and gold-capped teeth.

This clearly didn't phase the Hare, as his composure of confidence remained.

"Do you happen to know the name of the gentleman targeted?" he queried, examining his paws casually.

Barbossa hid his intimidation of the rabbit's unexplained aura of confidence, replying mockingly,

"A friend of yours, yeh' said? Wouldn't be _Roger Rabbit_, by any chance?"

Another bout of laughter spewed from the band of corsairs.

"Oh contraire," he responded over the roar. "His name happens Reginald _Theophilus _The Third."

The expression on Barbossa's face immediately froze into rock-hard seriousness. He gazed at the small creature before him with undeniable terror, as if the Hare had suddenly sprouted six-foot long tentacles. Hastily, he threw a hand behind him, abruptly silencing his crew.

"_Theophilus, _yeh' said?" he whispered, the fear radiating from his pupils.

The Hare simply nodded, knowing all too-well why Reginald would be safe from any piratical attack on account of his name.

Reginald's grandfather, Reginald Theophilus the first, had always had an unwavering, selfless love for hat making, and unlike the many boutiques who carried hats as a mere inventory item, he had always desired to own a store dedicated solely to the head accessories. Knowing full well that such a business would be nigh impossible to maintain in downtown Disneyland, Mr. Theophilus sought a higher-volume, yet usually avoided market. Before Mr. Theophilus, no one other than out-of-work villains trying to pay the bills and retired buccaneers would have dared set up shop on Tom Sawyer island, much less near the docks. Even then, the businesses were never clothing retail, always bars, general stores where tobacco could be purchased, bordellos and general ship supply.

Everyone had warned him that he would be eaten alive, keelhauled, made to walk the plank, and such other atrocities associated with privateers. However, thanks to Mr. Theophilus' confidence in his business abilities, and perhaps a bit of necessary insanity that seemed hereditary in his family, he cashed in immediately on pirate Captains' love of gaudy, humongous headwear. His hat-shop was as welcome at the port as rum or buxom wenches, and pioneered the way to future clothing stores where said Captains could buy custom clothing, a vast improvement over having to steal the used threads of well-to-dos on ship raids.

Mr. Theophilus' ability to create unparalleled feathered hats earned him quite a respectable reputation around the port. There was not one self-respecting pirate that would have taken advantage of dear, Mr. T, let alone a family member. The Hare, aware of Captain Barbossa's position as Mr. Theophilus' biggest fan, knew this would be enough to stop him. He suspected that had Captain Hook known of Reginald's true identity-rather than the taller, older, white-haired Peter Pan- he would have refused to assist Helga and Kida, being just as much enamored with the Theophilus' handiwork and loath to risk losing the privilege of doing business with him.

"May I be forced to kiss the gunner's daughter before I harm a Theophilus," Barbossa vowed sincerely, respectfully removing his colossal hat and placing it over his heart. He seemingly ignored one pluming, bright blue feather that protruded upwards, obscuring his face.

"So, are we in accord?" The Hare asked, smugly.

The Pirate Captain stared down at the Hare with utter contempt, clearly repressing it as best he could on account of the rabbit's social circle.

"For the Theophiluses," Barbossa answered. Then leaning down and seething through gritted teeth he said,

"And _no one else." _


End file.
